Stand Against The Tide
by sniperpal
Summary: The Altmeri Dominion is coming to burn Skyrim to the ground. Few are left who can stand against them after the long civil war. A small band of warriors, led by the legendary Dragonborn, must buy High King Ulfric and his people the time they need to prepare for war. Drex saved the world from Alduin, but this new task may prove to be beyond him... (Rating may rise later. T for now)
1. Chapter 1

_Although it's taken me years, I have finally gotten around to this long-awaited project of mine. My first Skyrim fic. Shout out to Bethesda for making the single greatest RPG known to man._

_Drex is essentially my favorite character out of all my saves. All NPCs from the game are Bethesda's creations and not mine. This story is rated M for blood/violence, some language, and possible adult content. Either don't flame or don't read._

_ENJOY!_

Chapter One: The Sorrow of Defeat

The sickening scent of blood permeated the air, and the cries of the wounded men being brought ashore were loud and growing louder, made all the more so due to the Bosmer's sensitive hearing. His pointed ears twitched at the sounds, making him wish he knew a spell to deafen himself to the screams of his fellow Stormcloaks.

He had listened to them dying for long enough during the past three weeks at sea.

A ragged line of ships stretched out of Windhelm's harbor, all the way down the river. The Bosmer knew that they would be coming in for days on end, the once-mighty fleet that had sailed from Skyrim's coast now limping back in, scattered and disorganized. He doubted a single ship would be returning with every man it had set sail with.

Those ships that had already docked were now bustling with activity as the wounded and dead on board were carried off with all haste so that other ships could dock as well. Some crews were actually passing those in need of healers over their railings to other ships closer to the docks, or lowering down small boats filled with wounded and paddling them right onto the shore. It seemed like half the healers in Skyrim were mustered on the banks of Windhelm's river, trying to save as many lives as they could.

Despite their efforts, several Stormcloaks succumbed to their injuries and joined the comrades they had lost in the events of the past months. Many more lay bleeding on the shores, groaning and wailing with pain, burns and gashes covering the bodies of the unfortunate soldiers. It was a scene out of a nightmare.

And it paled in comparison to what had happened on the Summerset Isle.

The Bosmer spun around, trying to keep the images from his head. He briskly walked down the gangplank of the ship that had carried him back from the Summerset Isle and made his way off the docks, working his way out of the confusion of wounded men, shouting officers, and restoration magic. He had barely emerged from the crowd, though, when he heard his name.

"Drex!" a familiar voice called out. He turned to see Rolaf of Riverrun sprinting towards him, part of the flood of people emerging from Windhelm's gates. The man had been part of the forces chosen to remain in Skyrim to defend against any possible Altmer attack, if the Bosmer remembered correctly. While Rolaf had bravely fought alongside Drex during the liberation of Skyrim, they had only seen each other rarely in Windhelm since the final victory at Solitude.

In his private thoughts, Drex thought that Rolaf was better off not knowing what he had been doing since the fall of Solitude. He had told no one about his new… friends, and if Drex had his way, no one would ever find out.

Unfortunately, with retribution from the Altmer now assured, his secret life would hardly matter anymore. Not if Skyrim was destined to burn beneath the elvish onslaught.

"What happened, old friend?" Rolaf asked as he ran up to the wood elf. "How did they do this?"

"I'm not sure," Drex answered. His voice was still hoarse from the dozens of Shouts he had unleashed upon the Altmer, even after three weeks of rest. "It was magic. Magic beyond any I've seen. Beyond anything even the College might be capable of…" The Bosmer simply shook his head, rubbing the short Mohawk running across his head in exhaustion. "It clearly was an act of desperation. Hundreds of their own men were burned and crushed along with our forces."

Rolaf shuddered. "They would sacrifice so many of their own for victory? Savages…."

"Firesword!" The word rang out across the docks, and the voice that it belonged to made the crowds part before the man who strode from the city, his great fur cloak whipping in the wind. Drex turned to see the High King of Skyrim himself emerging from the crowd of Windhelm's inhabitants. A few streaks of gray ran through his brown hair and beard, but Ulfric Stormcloak still carried himself with the same strength he had possessed the day he had led the charge into Solitude. "Where is Galmar? What went wrong? We received no word of the invasion's failure until just two days past!"

"High King Ulfric," Drex murmured, bending onto one knee. "It was a catastrophe. The invasion fleet was scattered by the Altmeri counterattack and will be hobbling back to our shores for several more weeks to come." Drex shook as coughs ran through his body, his lungs injured by smoke and ash. Healing potions had done little for him on the journey back. "If I may… we should discuss this in private. No one needs to hear the tale but you and those you trust most." The Bosmer looked up at the Nord, his eyes dark. "It does not bode well for the future."

Ulfric gazed at him for a moment, then nodded and motioned to two of the Stormcloak guards that stood at his side. They moved forward to assist the wood elf, but Drex pushed their helping hands away, growling, "I can walk…" before rising unsteadily to his feet and walking up the steps from the docks, heading for the Palace of Kings, Windhelm's citadel. Ulfric put a hand on Rolaf's shoulder as the Nord tried to follow.

"Stay and assist with aiding the wounded, my friend," Ulfric ordered him. "You can do more good here than listening to a tale of defeat."

Rolaf nodded and turned back to help get the wounded off the ships, and Ulfric moved back into the city after taking a final look around at the ragged remnants of his once-proud army, his shoulders sagging.

The cries of the injured and dying still rang in his ears even after the gates had closed behind him.

* * *

Drex sat in a seat at the end of the long dining table that filled the Palace's main hall, his head resting in his hands. A healer was working a restoration spell on the elf, and Ulfric and several of his court watched in silence as the scars and injuries that covered Drex started to fade.

"Enough," Drex said suddenly, although many wounds still remained on his body. "Enough. I won't drop dead, and the king needs to be told what happened to us immediately."

"Firesword, it cannot be so urgent…" Ulfric began.

"But it is," Drex cut him off. "Skyrim now faces a threat greater than any other before it, save for the World-Eater's recent rise." The wood elf slumped a little in his seat, thoroughly exhausted and ready to collapse. But he would not. Not yet. "The only problem is that I was able to defeat the World-Eater because it was my fate as Dragonborn. I don't believe such a solution can be found for what we have brought upon ourselves."

Ulfric leaned back in his stone chair, watching the elf warily. "Then start at the beginning. Tell me what went wrong."

Drex turned his head and locked eyes with the High King of Skyrim, his most powerful ally and an old friend. He hated what he was about to say, but it had to be said, for no one else had witnessed the whole campaign on the Summerset Isle and lived. Speaking slowly, Drex began his tale.

"I first knew that our fates were sealed when Galmar Stone-fist made his final stand."

* * *

_(So it begins. The tale of the war on the Summerset Isle will be the whole next chapter. It'll get much better from then on out, I promise.)_


	2. Chapter 2

_You know those Stormcloaks you all fought alongside during the Liberation of Skyrim quest? Yeah, most of them are dead. Here's why. _

_Drex is essentially my favorite character out of all my saves. All NPCs from the game are Bethesda's creations and not mine. _

_ENJOY!_

The Red Water Of Summerset

"It took just under a month for the fleet to start reassembling off the coast of the Summerset Isle. Our departure may have looked magnificently coordinated from the shores of Dawnstar, but once we were far out to sea, ships went off course or fell behind. Only about two-thirds of our strength was ready for battle when Galmar decided to begin the landings."

Drex took a long sip from the cup of mead clutched in his hand, wetting his parched throat so that he might continue with the story. The court of Windhelm sat enraptured, waiting for the Bosmer to continue. With a swallow, Drex cleared his mouth of mead and spoke again.

"They let us onto the beach unopposed. The Altmeri watched from the cliffs above as we filled the beaches with a huge mob of our men. We didn't learn of their presence until the first arrows started flying among us, striking down many in the crowd.

Galmar had prepared the troops for this, however. The battle mages raised wards and a shield wall was quickly formed, and from behind it our archers struck back at the elves atop the cliffs. The shootout lasted for hours after our initial landing and badly delayed the main force. We didn't wait for the situation to resolve itself, however.

You see, we were wrong about the Summerset Isle. It's actually _many _islands, a number of small islets clustered around a far larger island. There were outposts on many of those smaller islands; our catapults on the ships destroyed most of them. However, one was left standing, and I led a number of our troops to storm it in an attempt to take prisoners. Galmar knew that we would need to learn everything we could about the Summerset Isle as fast as possible, and when we finally captured a high-ranking Altmeri officer… we didn't spare him any pain."

Drex's hazel eyes darkened at the memory, the high elf's screams ringing in his ears even now. It had not been an easy task for him, but Drex had refused to allow anyone else in the room during the interrogation. The Bosmer had known that the Altmer would break faster if he believed that Drex was acting without any orders or restraints.

"What we learned surprised us to no end. The Altmeri presence on the Summerset Isle was actually far lower than any of us expected when the invasion was originally planned. Most of their armies departed for Tamriel long ago- years, actually. Only a handful of their warriors still remained on the islands."

Ulfric leaned forward on his throne at this point, his brow furrowed in worry. "Why? Where did they go? There's been no reports of any large Altmeri activity on this continent since the Great War. What did this prisoner tell you of their plans?"

"He didn't," Drex replied. "That was the one thing he would not tell me no matter what. It was more important to him than his own life. And that, more than anything, is what frightens me about what the future holds."

Ulfric nodded and sat back, clearly still anxious but understanding that there was nothing else to learn. "Continue then, Dragonborn."

Drex rubbed a hand over his face in weariness before speaking again. "With the smaller islands subdued and our army prepared to complete the landings, the Altmeri retreated from the beaches. We spent the next couple of days bringing our ships onto the shore and landing supplies and equipment. Galmar _was _always efficient at that sort of thing; we were ready to move inland by the third day of our arrival. We put the first of our dead back on the ships to bring home when we left, and we began the march.

The next month was a running skirmish, the Altmeri poking and stabbing at our lines while our host marched across their island. No true army rose up to face us at first; it's likely they didn't believe they could win a fight against all of our troops at once. Instead, the elves would occasionally send small bands of warriors to lure some of our troops after them, and, well…." Drex paused, briefly concerned about giving offense, but he berated himself for the thought- he was _Dragonborn_; they would not take offense at his words. "Nords are Nords. Every time they thought a fight was to be had, they rushed after the elves without a second thought, eager to blood their blades."

Drex paused at that point, remembering the first time the riderless horses and staggering, bloody soldiers had rejoined the main column. It had been a sign of things to come, although they had not known it at that point. "After the first few groups of soldiers that pursued the elves came back decimated, Galmar ordered the rest to ignore the Altmeri and focus on reaching the city our scouts had found in the first week of the march. We made good time after that, and our speed caught the high elves off guard; there were no more fights until we reached the city in our path."

Ulfric asked quietly, "Did it end up becoming a siege? I ordered Galmar to avoid getting delayed by assaulting a city."

"No, he followed your orders well." Drex's thoughts were clearly starting to wander; he had never spoken so informally to Ulfric in court before. "The Altmeri cities are well built, the walls smoothly carved yet sturdy and tall. It was tempting to try an assault, I admit. Many of the men wished to storm the city and lay waste to the palaces and strongholds we could see within the walls, but Galmar kept the army in line. We destroyed every bridge out of the city and poisoned the water flowing in, but aside from that, our march was hardly slowed. We moved across the land, burning everything that could be destroyed without hassle and sweeping aside any minor resistance from the local population."

At this point, one of the court attendants eagerly broke in. "So you kept moving on to the Great Tower? Did you find it?"

Drex slowly turned to look at the attendant, whose face slowly fell in recognition of his mistake before stepping back against the wall. The Bosmer did not comment on the interruption, but merely answered the question. "Yes. We did the find the Tower. The stories about the power it gives them were clearly true."

"How did you know?" Ulfric asked. "Were our mages able to enter the Tower and find the source of magic within?"

"No. Its power was obvious… because that's where the Altmeri were waiting for us." Drex's next words were quiet and subdued. "And that's where they destroyed us."

The court stood in silence for a moment, before Ulfric asked a simple question.

"What spell was it?"

Drex looked up at the king in confusion as Ulfric continued, "I refuse to believe that the great army we sent forth from these shores was conquered in true combat. What devilry did the high elves work to stop our conquest?"

The Bosmer could only shake his head. "Fire from the ground…" he muttered. "Ash and brimstone to carry us to hell. Whatever magic they used, it summoned the fire of the earth itself to destroy us. Hundreds of Altmeri first charged our army and confused our ranks, turning it into an all-out battle. When the field was sufficiently mixed so that Nord and Altmer stood face to face, and we were about to claim victory over their inferior numbers…" Drex let out a breath, the images coming back in a rush. "The ground burst beneath us. Molten fire leapt forth and consumed everyone, Stormcloaks and high elves alike. Chasms opened up beneath men's feet, dropping them into pits of flame and magma. The world turned to smoke and fire, blinding all those who were not killed immediately by the cataclysm." Drex shook his head slowly, trying to repress the memories of the endless screams. "The Altmeri lost many, but we lost many more. I'm not a devout person in particular, but I admit, even I believed at that moment that the Aedra and Deadra alike had sided with the Altmeri against us."

"Gods above…" Ulfric whispered. "What about Galmar and the other leaders?"

Drex chuckled humorlessly. "They had led the charge at the Tower, which was the one place the high elves' magic did not touch. The most dangerous place in the battle suddenly became the safest, and he used that. Galmar rallied everyone he could and pushed through the Altmeri lines, breaking free of the battle and then turning west. The survivors of our force circumvented the apocalyptic remains of the battleground and headed back to the shores where the ships lay waiting."

Drex took another sip of mead, but he seemed to hardly notice his own action, his eyes unfocused as he relived the campaign. "I did what I always do. I survived, emerging from the battleground undetected and evading the Altmeri. After a couple weeks of travel, I found our forces under attack once again from the surviving remnants of the enemy army. It was a ferocious battle, our troops fighting for their lives and the Altmeri seeking vengeance, and it was clear that the Stormcloaks were going to lose." The Bosmer looked at Ulfric, an apology on his face. "I charged the high elves myself. What else could I do, Ulfric? Our army was about to crumble."

"I do not blame you, Firesword," Ulfric said softly. "But… I assume you revealed your true nature there."

"Aye. I called down lightning and fire and every manner of death I could on them with my Thu'um. It freed up our forces to reach the ships, but they now know who I am. There's nothing that can be done about that."

"Very well." Ulfric looked more sorrowful than displeased at that moment, and Drex suddenly realized what he was going to ask next. "Now then… Galmar Stone-fist. What is this final stand of his you spoke of?"

Drex's eyes tightened in sorrow at the question. "He saved the entire army. There were so few left to crew the ships, and the elves were still pressing the attack, and I was no longer able to fight…" His back twitched involuntarily at the thought of the elfish blade that had cut into his shoulder, the pain like a red-hot iron. The memory was far too fresh for him. "Galmar drew up a shield wall with just a few score of his men, and he ordered the rest of the army to flee to the seas. They stood against the elves for well over an hour as we retreated." The wood elf's face suddenly gave a small, somber grin. "You would have been proud to see it, Ulfric. He stood against the elves like a wall and no one could bring him down. The pride of the Nords was upheld on that red-stained sand."

The king of Skyrim nodded, resting his head on one hand as if he was weary from so much bad news. After a moment's pause, he suddenly stood, his strength visibly returning to him, and spoke to his court in the loud, commanding voice that had led the Stormcloaks for so long. "So be it. Galmar Stone-fist now feasts among the honored dead of Sovngarde. Our army is grievously depleted, but the spirit of Skyrim is not broken. Not yet." Ulfric gazed around the court of Winterhold at the gathered attendants, soldiers, priests, and nobles, all looking to him for leadership. "It seems our wish to keep the war out of our homeland could not be upheld. That may be unfortunate for us, but it is far worse for the Altmeri; now they must come to us on our own ground. And I promise you, my people, they will pay for every inch of Skyrim they desecrate with a thousand lives. They will find nothing but blood and destruction waiting for them here."

Ulfric stepped down from his throne, walking to the table where Drex sat. "All of you may be dismissed. I wish to speak with the Dragonborn alone." No one dared to disobey the High King's order; within moments, the great hall was emptied save for the few guards at the doors. Ulfric knelt next to Drex, laying a hand on the Bosmer's shoulder. "I want you to head to Hjerim and rest, my friend. You have done more than enough for our cause these past few months. I will need your help soon, but not today." He pulled the elf to his feet and called over to a guard, ordering him, "Escort the Dragonborn back to his home. Tell anyone who slows you down that they risk my displeasure."

From across the hall, a voice rang out. "That won't be necessary, King Ulfric. I can drag my husband home without help."

Drex slowly lifted his head, wincing as his injuries complained, and saw who had spoken. The memories of the months of horrors he had just endured rushed away when he realized who it was, replaced by a simple yet overwhelming joy.

Aela stood in front of the doors, watching Ulfric and the guard support the barely-conscious wood elf. That little half-smile that Drex thought was the most beautiful thing in the world appeared on her face.

"Welcome home, you fool."

* * *

_(So yeah. I married Aela in my Drex save and thought it would be a good relationship for a fanfic. Now that the story of the Stormcloak's defeat on Summerset is FINALLY over, I can finally get started on what I'm really looking forward to- the war for Skyrim's very survival. Favorite, follow and review!)_


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